


Making Fire Sweat

by goldywan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Elemental Magic, F/M, Fire, Fluff and Smut, General Grillby (Undertale), Grillby's Restaurant (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Snowdin (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 09:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldywan/pseuds/goldywan
Summary: The fic in which you are drunk, and get Grillby hot and bothered.Aka smashing behind Grillby's in the alleyway.





	Making Fire Sweat

"Grillby, do you ever drink?"

It had been a few months since you began turning up as a regular at the eponymous bar--something about those fries and the ketchup left you coming back like a potato user--and since the first few wordless encounters you're proud to say that you've struck up a rather good companionship with the owner and barkeep.

Grillby raises an eyebrow at you from wiping a glass clean and sets it down behind the counter before answering you questions with an elaborate and verbose answer:

_"No."_

"Oh, _come on,_ Grillby, you own a bar for crying out loud!" You take another swig from the pint you're working on and admit that if anyone were to ask you about your current state of sobriety, it would be--

"I bet I can out drink you," you taunt him, adjusting your slouch to a proper sitting position. You fix your eyes on him intently and smile, knowing that your grin is probably a little too wide to be convincing. _What can you say,_ you think as you take another sip of the beer, _it's easier to smile than to frown._

"___, I think it's about time you stop drinking for the night," Grillby replies level-headedly as he mechanically wipes down the next empty glass and places it down.

"Why?" You counter. "Is it because you're scared you'll _lose?"_ You bite your lip, catching how his eyes dart down to your mouth, before looking back up again. There's a reason why alcohol is also known as liquid courage, but in your case the courage comes with a dose of heat pooling between your legs. It helps that rather than making your entire face flush, it gives you a nice dusting of pink across the cheeks. Your ears are feeling warm and the way the world tilts a little further than it normally does when you move your head gives you... **determination.**

"Grillby," you drawl, leaning across the bar and drawing your elbows against your chest together to squeeze your breasts together. The shirt you're wearing isn't particularly low-cut, but you're hoping it's enough to prove a distraction for the fire elemental.

You get a sign when his hands still for a few seconds on the glass he's drying, and almost drop it as he moves to place it on the counter.

"Please, ___. It's only half an hour until closing." He speaks so low that you almost don't catch it, but the strain is evident in the way the flames on top of his head snap a little louder and the color of the swirls glow a little bluer. He picks his glass back up and continues to dry it, although you can see that it's as polished as it's going to be. You're positive your eyes are sparkling with the way he reflects in them, so you can't help leaning forward just a little more and putting a little whine in with your protest. "Grillby... I'm so _hot."_

With that, he stops wiping altogether and with the gentility of a sage immortal places the glass gingerly on the counter. He leans forward and murmurs in your ear, warmth from his face sending waves of goose bumps across your arms and back: "I'm going to take out the trash in 2 minutes."

 

* * *

 

" _F-uck! Fuck, fuck, fu-"_ a stream of expletives are all you're reduced to as you find your front pressed up against the cold brick wall of the back of Grillby and the warm, _warm_ body of Grillby behind you. The two of you grind into each other frantically and you rapidly lose coherency as he puts his mouth on the back of your neck and sucks insistently upon one spot until you're having trouble keeping your legs straight. Thank goodness Snowdin is this cold, otherwise the trash would stink and there would definitely be more people walking around at this time.

He hurriedly pushes your pants down and you hear the clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of that neatly pressed dress shirt as it's yanked out of the way, and then one hand is holding your wrists together as the other takes himself out of his pants and starts to run the tip up and down your puffy, wet slit. You make a noise between a gasp and a moan and start to push back in an effort to get him inside, _inside, inside,_ but he releases his grip on your wrists and holds your hip to keep you steady as he keeps coating his member with your wetness.

"Stop. Moving." He breathes up against your ear as he continues to trace, back and forth, pressing into your clit, and going back far enough to tickle your rosebud. You arch your back as much as it will go and kiss him on the neck, sucking and licking and using a bit of teeth as you try to move against him, let him know how good it feels, how good he makes you feel.

"I like it when it hurts a little," you slur, and the answering groan you hear is indicative enough of getting him over the edge of restraint because you finally feel a familiar pressure against your entrance. You feel a rush of adrenaline and pride knowing that you were coy enough to seduce the ever stoic and prudish Grillby, before he grips your hips with both hands and, thumbs digging into the junction between hip and ass, slowly presses his entirety into you.

There's a couple tense seconds of silence between you two as you get used to the fullness and girth, and then he's moving. At first it's slow but it quickly graduates to fucking because the next thing you know a hand is clasped over your mouth to keep the drunken moans down and the only sound you can concentrate on is the soft pounding of flesh against flames and the sensation of the rough brick under your palms and his breath in your ears and _fuck fuck_ fuck fuck _**fuck**_

His clothed chest presses up against your back and you really hope that there's another chance for this with all clothes off but for now you're focused on the way he grinds his hips against yours and the unbelievable warmth pooling all throughout your body. Grillby moves the hand that's over your mouth and inserts his fingers which you find yourself greedily sucking on as you continue to try and match his pace.

"Is this--" the bartender pants, gathering your wrists with his other hand and leaning backwards so you no longer have the wall for support--"what you wanted?" You gasp at the new position, feeling like you're impaling yourself on his cock, which only continues to thrust, deeper and harder. Grillby's not a fast fuck, you realize. The idea that you might have bitten off a little more than you can chew (sucked more than you can swallow?) only excites you more, and he gives a breathless moan as you tighten around him. He haphazardly shoves his fingers even deeper into your throat, making you choke a little, and the deep guttural noise seems to be his undoing.

"Gods, ___, I'm about to--" Grillby's hips start to stutter as he pulls you close, arms forming a protective cocoon around you as his hips continue to move, pressing his cock inside you. "Will you come with me? Come with me," he murmurs, voice wavering through the strain, his arms tightening fiercely so all you're able to do is take his forceful thrusts.

"Come inside," you manage to gasp. "Fuck, Grillby, come, come, come.." The words rush out like a mantra. He reaches down and starts to circle around your clit, and the additional warmth is enough to tip you over.

"___, so soft, so tight, so--!!" You both moan as you orgasm around each other. His hips stutter as he's pressed up against you.  You two stay in that position briefly before he untangles himself from you, pulls out, and adjusts himself. You watch as he smooths his shirt and tweaks his glasses before reaching for your face and giving you a gentle kiss, one that betrays the filthy business you've just partaken in. "I still have fifteen minutes before closing. Think you can wait for at least that long before I take you home for the night?"

You smile impishly and bite your lip. "So long as you're the one that takes me home."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to hell for this, but will rest knowing Grillby was hotter.


End file.
